24 Hours
by ficdirectory
Summary: Part 7 of the Paris series.  Twenty-four hours in the lives of the people in the BAU.  Post-6x18.


"Why do you got a picture of a bird on your leg?" Jack asked, fingering the ink on his dad.

"To remind me of your mom," he said.

"Silly…Mommy's not a bird! She got wings but she's not a bird!" Jack giggled.

"No, I know she isn't," Aaron shook his head and smiled.

He knew he couldn't explain that Blackbird was their song. And that the refrain was something they said often in high school. Back then, he had often thought of Haley of that blackbird who would sing in the darkest night, no matter what was going on.

"You shouldn't color on yourself, Daddy," Jack said, climbing onto Aaron's lap. "Besides, you don't need a bird to remind you of Mommy anyway. We got each other for that."

In his office, Hotch blinked, turning pausing the image of himself and his son. Jessica had been there, and caught these moments between them. She kept them for Jack, when Hotch was away.

* * *

><p>"Haven't you watched this, like, eighty times?" Ashley asked, walking into Hotch's office.<p>

She was slowly getting more comfortable around the team. Sometimes, if Rossi wasn't around, she sought out Hotch instead. It didn't escape her that Ashley wasn't really the type to hang out with the girls, but it didn't surprise her.

Years of counseling had made it clear that she might spend the rest of her life seeking out the kind of relationship she never had with her own father. That, and she just didn't have a lot in common with Garcia and Prentiss. Plus, they always brought up JJ and that just made her feel so awkward. She had met JJ a couple times, and thought she was nice. Ashley also couldn't deny the resemblance between them.

Shaking her head, she sat down beside Hotch and watched the video of him talking to his son. Wishing, somehow, that her own father had done the same for her.

* * *

><p>Nights were quiet in the BAU. At least, this night was. Rossi had work to do, so he had reluctantly sent Ashley on when she came by to see if he wanted to "hang out." It made him smile, the way she sought him out. The way she genuinely wanted to spend time with him.<p>

Ashley didn't see him as a celebrity. At least not like everyone else did. She saw him more as a father that she'd never had, and he was fine with that.

He flipped the file closed on his desk and leaned back in his chair. He really didn't need much. Not a world full of admirers. Just someone who was there because she wanted to be. That was enough for him.

* * *

><p>Derek was sure everyone else had left by now. He had set aside every file until later. He was fighting the worst headache. Didn't know what to do about it either, since anything he took for it didn't make a dent in the pain. So instead, he walked around the quiet offices until he found Garcia.<p>

She had her feet propped on the desk and was all pumped about the royal wedding. He couldn't really get excited about that, but he _could_ get excited about spending a little time with his favorite person in the world.

* * *

><p>Elle stretched out on the couch and let her mind wander. Every time she turned the channel, there was another damn report about the wedding in England. It wasn't that she was bitter, really, it was just that she was pretty sure there were more news stories to report on than a wedding halfway around the world.<p>

To Elle, other things were obvious choices. The recent destructive storms. The war. The ocean crisis. The earthquakes that suddenly burst out of nowhere to destroy everything in their path. She had it on good authority that there were things going on in Colombia that weren't being talked about at all.

Unless she turned on Univision and forced herself to bring to mind her own first language to translate the heartbreak and devastation.

On second thought, Elle just turned it all off.

She thought of the BAU. Wondered what they were up to.

* * *

><p>It had been months and Emily still did not feel like Pascale. While her French was impeccable, and she was enchanted by the cafes and restaurants, she could not seem to effect this transformation completely.<p>

She thought of her friends at work constantly. Sometimes, she had this overwhelming urge to scream, just to see if she still had a voice.

Today, Emily walked more slowly past a store with a television set. The people on it were familiar in the way celebrities were. She watched them kiss on the balcony and wondered if somewhere, her friends were watching, too.

* * *

><p>A pen covered in blood.<p>

It was early on a Friday morning and Jason Gideon couldn't get that image out of his mind. It was from the crime scene where his sweetheart, Sarah, had been brutally murdered. Of all the horror he saw there, for some reason, the pen haunted him.

It had been his favorite. A gift from her. He had never thought that it might one day be evidence at a scene like the one he stumbled upon.

Jason tried to sleep but it was useless. It had been a week and the amount of hours he slept still totaled in the single digits. It was getting ridiculous, but he didn't know what else to do.

He would have called someone, if he had anyone to call, but he didn't. Everyone he counted as important was somewhere else entirely.

And he was here, in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

><p>"The least you could do is be excited," JJ complained, swatting Will with a pillow.<p>

"About what? It's not like it's our wedding..." Will mumbled, burying his face in his pillows.

"This is a historic moment," she insisted, lowering her voice so she didn't risk waking Henry, who had been in a horrible mood, ever since she had first learned she would be returning to work at the BAU.

She had it on good authority that if babies could sense stress, toddlers had refined detecting it to an art, anticipating possible changes and reacting accordingly. JJ had tried to give him all kinds of one-on-one time and attention, but still, he insisted on three books a night, because he was three now, and refused to let her leave his side when he was awake.

JJ focused on the screen, watching the prince kiss his princess and holding onto the possibility that happily ever after still existed, even after a tragedy.

This wedding was proof. And so was JJ.

* * *

><p>Garcia took a handful of popcorn and crunched on it happily. "You know that princess? Should <em>so <em>have been me. If JJ hadn't interrupted me, I would have gotten that man's phone number years ago, and won him over like you would not believe…"

"But then you wouldn't have me…" Derek interjected lazily, his headache nearly gone.

She turned to him and smiled.

* * *

><p>Spencer knew no one really expected him to be into something like an English wedding, but he was. Completely. He watched all the official news coverage. He found the most recent royal wedding from thirty years prior and watched it, trying to sense what would be similar and what might be different.<p>

This was history being played out in front of his eyes. Nothing could tear him away. It was why he had rushed home as soon as possible, while his coworkers remained behind. He needed solace to enjoy this more fully.

But if he was honest, he needed something to completely lose himself in, so he could not remember how much he hurt.

* * *

><p>By the time dawn broke in Hotch's apartment, Jack was awake. He was in an amazing mood and danced into the kitchen, singing, "Friday! Friday! Gotta get down on Friday!" and Aaron could not help but laugh.<p>

"Daddy! Guess what? _Tons _of good songs came on the radio inside my alarm clock!" Jack exclaimed. "That's why it's gonna be a good day and I can tell…"

Aaron watched, speechless, and exhausted as Jack climbed on a kitchen chair, pouring himself a bowl of Trix cereal and singing some song about how he was a 21st century girl. Aaron didn't comment. He didn't want to do anything to compromise this good mood. This good day.

* * *

><p>On Fridays, Ashley woke with the taste of decay in her mouth. And this time, it wasn't just the dreams that haunted her. It was reality, too.<p>

She had been called in to talk to Strauss yesterday. No one noticed.

But the news had shaken Ashley. The truth of it was, she was told, they needed JJ back. The BAU was struggling. They couldn't afford to be without her.

Ashley knew without confirmation then that her own job was at risk. Who needed a cadet when they had the best media liaison in the area, who did the best job at picking cases, outlining cases, and still managed to take care of everyone else, too?

She had closed her eyes knowing the truth. Ashley couldn't even manage to take care of herself. She had gotten herself in bad situations. Put herself and the team at risk right out of the gate.

Of course she was expendable.

Of course she was.

It was the only lesson her father ever taught her. The only one she truly took to heart.

* * *

><p>"I could hear them whispering about me." Ashley insisted, the minute she walked into work. She pulled Rossi aside before he even got to the coffee.<p>

"Ashley, they talk about everybody. They talked about me, too. You'll get used to it." he reassured. He had thought that by now, Ashley's insecurities might have faded some, but instead, she seemed as skittish as ever.

She sighed. "I just can't deal with it today…"

"Are you okay?" he asked, staring into her eyes. It was like staring into a fathomless sea where you didn't find answers, only more questions.

"Yes," she insisted, pasting a smile on, and Rossi wondered if she knew she was simultaneously shaking her head no.

"If you need anything, I'm around. Just try to relax. Don't be so hard on yourself."

* * *

><p>Derek was pretty sure that he should have had a nervous breakdown by now. Even watching that damn wedding this morning hadn't cleared his mind of its stresses. He jerked awake in the middle of some kind of procession, sweat broken out on his forehead.<p>

He had shaken his head, trying to figure out where he was. But it hadn't taken long. He was on the couch in Garcia's dungeon. Somehow, he had fallen asleep there. Somehow, Garcia had moved beside him and put his legs across her lap.

Somehow, she was there when he needed her.

He sent her a smile as they sat down around the table, prepared for whatever this day brought.

* * *

><p>Some days, Elle just did not want to get up. Hell, <em>most days<em> she didn't want to get up. Even if it was bright and sunny outside, she found herself glaring at the sun, cursing its brightness and grabbing sunglasses from the bedside table before she even got out of bed.

She wasn't stupid. Elle knew it had a lot to do with the drinks she had consumed last night. A lot to do with the fact that she still had not found a steady form of employment after being let go by the FBI. Her temper got in the way. She snapped at people. Every menial customer service job she had possessed had ended in termination because of her poor way with people.

So, this time, Elle just figured, she'd make it easier on everyone.

She pulled the blankets over her head and went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>Emily bit her lip and studied the empty canvass in front of her. How cliché was it that living in France she had learned to paint? But she didn't care. She had gotten quite good, and these paintings by Pascale Dupont were actually starting to sell. She hadn't meant this to be her career. Still, it was nice to do something she enjoyed that didn't cause her massive stress and get paid.<p>

Her favorite thing about the paintings was the pieces of home she incorporated into a landscape. The black cat lying in the tall grass. The blonde woman sitting in a café. The painting dedicated to a large grandfather clock where she also incorporated numerous other clocks all set to different time zones.

The chess board its pieces scattered on the grass in the middle of a public park or a star puzzle hung high in the night sky.

All of it reminded her of home, and Emily hoped, one day, she could return there.

* * *

><p>The sky was a vivid blue this morning and the birds seemed to be sending the same message to one another over and over again. Jason wondered about it, sipping his morning coffee and staring out the window of the restaurant.<p>

He was only a little stunned to find a bright red cardinal staring at him. It was close enough, Jason might have touched it if not for the pane of glass separating them. He wasn't one who believed in reincarnation - at least, he didn't think so - but somehow, seeing this bird brought Sarah to mind.

Even thought it was a male and Sarah was not that hardly mattered. She lit up his days this way. She reassured him this way, that somehow, in spite of all the heartache, there was still beauty. That sometimes, that beauty was staring him right in the face.

Jason just needed to take time to see it.

* * *

><p>"JJ? You all right?" Will called.<p>

From behind the door, she tried to tell him she was fine and not to worry, but really, she was worried as hell. Vomiting was so unattractive. Not to mention that it reminded her of trauma and morning sickness and everything unpleasant.

She didn't know what was wrong, still she tried to reassure him.

"Yeah. Fine," she reassured.

Hesitantly, she stood, staring at herself in the mirror.

She willed the picture she had seen on the computer screen to go away. The gallery of some French woman, who was only pictured in large brimmed hats that shaded her face. The paintings of stunning French landscapes that had serious messages hidden in them. JJ didn't need to be a profiler to see them. The clocks were an homage to Garcia, the chess game to Gideon and the star puzzle to Reid. The woman in the café was JJ herself.

When she had seen them, purely by accident, just wishing for some new art to hang on her wall, they had stopped JJ in her tracks.

Pascale Dupont was scrawled in the corner of each painting. It was Emily's French alias that JJ had inadvertently memorized when she glanced at the hand full of passports to make sure everything was in order.

Emily was an artist now. And a damn good one.

* * *

><p>Garcia stared at the phone as if she still could not quite believe what she was hearing. This was new, to say the least.<p>

"Garcia, please…" JJ begged again. Just hack my computer and clean my hard drive! I need this from you. Just this one favor."

"Okay. JJ, God. You know I'd do anything for you…but you can't clean a hard drive. The only definite way to erase something for good is to smash it with a hammer and buy a new one. What the hell did you do, anyway?" she asked, curious.

"Nothing, I just… Are you serious? I've got to buy a brand new computer?" she asked weakly.

"Don't worry. I'll find you the best deal possible. And if you want, I'll even come over and bring my favorite hammer," Garcia offered.

When she heard JJ's weak laugh on the other end of the phone, Garcia knew she would have a busy day ahead so she would have to prioritize.

First, catch the creep of the hour. Then, go to JJ's and smash the hell out of her hard drive.

Garcia smiled. This was shaping up to be a great day.

* * *

><p>Reid was camped out at the crime scene. Rossi was lead negotiator and Reid was back up for the back up. It was probably just as well, since he could not focus on anything to adequately do his job.<p>

They suggested mental health help, of sorts, but Reid refused. His headaches hadn't let up and now he had depression to contend with. It wasn't a good combination. It definitely didn't make him anymore impressive on the field.

Maybe he would call JJ later. That might help.

He blinked twice, trying to focus, half-wishing that he had not sacrificed sleep to watch that wedding in the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

><p>Hotch knew they were all in danger of collapsing. The entire BAU. Unless he did something about it and fast. They needed another trained agent on the team, but they didn't just materialize out of nowhere, and Hotch knew that after the year they had endured, it couldn't just be anyone. They had to be able to trust this person already.<p>

So, in what little free time he possessed, Hotch had made some calls to DC. To Strauss. To anyone he knew who might be able to help with what he needed done.

After all, he had told JJ he hoped to get her back, and the team needed her. It was abundantly clear when they lost Emily. JJ was the only reason that Emily was now safe, and not dead, like the rest of the team assumed.

It was only a matter of days now and to Hotch's way of thinking, it could not happen fast enough. Even at home, this morning, Jack had flipped the day on the little calendar that said six. The number of days until JJ's return.

* * *

><p>Ashley clutched her gun and tried to breathe. To concentrate on this case and not on what she felt sure she was about to lose. This was a hostage situation, not a time to lose her head, worrying about something else.<p>

Even if that something else was her future on this job, with these people. She had quickly grown to love them. Quickly grown to count on them like family. She even went to the movies recently with Garcia, Reid and Derek. It was the first time she had been included with any of them.

She figured she should warn them. She should tell them what a disaster she felt like inside. How crazy this was making her. How much she was doubting herself.

When she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, though, Ashley did not flinch.

She pulled the trigger, and the suspect fell.

Thank God something still worked as it should.

* * *

><p>"I need some aluminum foil, a paper clip, your earring and toothpaste to make this work…<em>hurry<em>."

Rossi was making it his personal mission to lighten up this mood that had settled over them on the jet. He thought there was a possibility of that happening if he shocked them out of their stupor. He addressed his demands to Ashley, who sat, staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

"What are you gonna do?" she finally managed.

"Magic," Rossi responded, hoping he sounded mysterious. For a second, he wished Garcia were with them. She would get right into the spirit. Ashley just stared at him like he was crazy.

"You don't know magic," Reid accused lightly.

"_You_ don't know _what _I know," Rossi countered cryptically.

As soon as he amassed the items he needed, Rossi set to work. He used the aluminum foil to shape some kind of base and the toothpaste as glue to hold the paperclip and the earring in place.

"Look at that!" he announced proudly.

Spencer squinted. From down the aisle, Derek took off his headphones. Even Hotch turned around. Ashley was the first to snicker.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What do you think it is?" he asked.

"An alien?" she guessed.

Reid smirked. "There's no way you're a magician! That's the worst magic trick I've ever seen! It's not even a _trick_!" he heckled.

Rossi sat back in his seat and smiled.

* * *

><p>Derek could not get off the plane fast enough. He had been hoping to catch up on his sleep but Seaver, Reid and Rossi of all people were busy making creepy creatures out of foil and being really loud about it. Even Hotch was encouraging it.<p>

Sometimes, he wondered. Really wondered. Had they all forgotten about Emily? Was it just him who was constantly up with nightmares? With this intense anger? With this desire to give himself in her place but this terrible knowledge that nothing could be changed now…

It was over.

For all of them, it was over.

* * *

><p>In the darkness of her room, Elle sometimes composed letters in her mind to pass the time.<p>

_Dear Ronald Garner,_

_You sick bastard. You have no idea how much I hate you. You got what you deserved, but what you don't know is, I should have been the one to do it…_

_Dear Hotch,_

_You have no idea how much I feel betrayed by you. Nothing was resolved. So I still feel this heaviness inside when I think of you. It weighs me down and I cannot shake it._

_Dear Daddy,_

_You have no idea how much I miss you…_

_Elle_

* * *

><p>"I should stop working night shifts. I'm starting to see things."<p>

Emily thought this, she did not say it out loud. Because no one here knew she spoke English. But that was the truth. Painting all through the night was not something she would encourage.

Especially when all she survived on was bread and little chocolates. She was going to get fat. Still she could not tear herself away from her most recent painting. This one was of the constellations. Innocuous enough, but even that had ties to home. To work. To cases. It brought her back to standing with Derek outside beneath a sky full of stars.

In her head, she saw each constellation as a friend she'd had to leave. Too distant to touch, too far away to hear her, but there, all the same.

When she tore herself away from painting and checked her business site, Emily's breath caught.

On every canvass displayed for her _La Cachette _gallery, there was a new comment, just a single word:

"_Merci."_

* * *

><p>"A terrible spark of insanity flickered in his dark eyes."<p>

Jason read the line off his computer screen and didn't care if it sounded too dramatic. His writing was for himself and he liked it rough. He was the only one who would see it. He was the only one who knew that this had become his only way to deal with the awful things he had seen on the job.

He was retired, with not a lot to occupy himself except this new hobby. The birds were nice company. The road was great inspiration. Fridays always led to great stuff too, for some reason, and Jason wasn't sure why. Still, he wasn't about to question it.

Taking a deep breath, he continued to create the story of a perfectly normal individual who had slowly began losing pieces of himself.

When it was finished, he would move on. Tell another story. Maybe, of the friends left behind, who knew the man who lost his mind.

* * *

><p>True to her word, Garcia showed up just when she said she would, carrying a heavy-duty looking hammer, prepared to smash her computer.<p>

JJ had not been able to resist going back to the site and commenting anonymously. She left just one word. French for thank you, which she'd had to look up. The last thing JJ wanted was to get Emily in trouble. But she could not keep going like this. Knowing that she was on her way back to the BAU and Emily was still in hiding.

It was making her sick, and JJ hated it. She had to reach out, so she had, carefully, knowing that in minutes, Garcia would arrive, and all trace of the computer the message originated from would be destroyed. She hadn't gotten another yet. She figured a shopping trip with Garcia was in order.

She stepped back, when Garcia tried to embrace her. Instead, she grasped the hammer and started swinging.

* * *

><p>Garcia was damn confused, by the sight of JJ beating the hell out of her computer with tears falling. She wished they could just talk, but ever since Emily, her friendship with JJ had gotten weird. JJ pulled back. It hurt, but Garcia was still determined to be there for her.<p>

When it registered - the ragged breaths that were surely panic - Garcia intervened, risking a blow of the hammer and took it from JJ's shaking hand. She drew her friend into her arms.

"Whatever it is…" Garcia whispered. "I'm here. I'll help if you want."

For a second, JJ relaxed and took the comfort and then Garcia felt her gather herself again.

"Thanks," she breathed. "I'm okay, though," she said, the smile entirely out of place on her face.

* * *

><p>There was something going on, and the more Spencer thought about it, the more he was sure he was onto something. So he kept observing and collecting clues. He called JJ like he planned too, and something was off with her, too.<p>

"Are you crying?" he asked, shocked.

"I broke my computer," she managed.

"Well, call Garcia. She'll help you fix it," he said.

"No," she laughed. It was a strange, strangled sound. "Garcia's the one who helped me break it."

"Are you okay?" he pressed.

He listened as she let out a breath. "Just a lot of change. I'll be fine."

"What kind of change?" he asked, intrigued.

"You'll see," she answered and suddenly he was listening to the dial tone.

* * *

><p>Hotch knew that if Haley were here, she would not have been thrilled about his idea for a before-bed snack, but after the day he had, Aaron didn't feel that guilty.<p>

He scooped vanilla ice cream into two bowls, as Jack stuck in his DVD of the moment, Disney's Tangled. In the kitchen, Aaron topped his own with brown sugar and chocolate syrup. He put chocolate syrup and mini marshmallows on Jack's and joined him in the living room.

"Yes! A campout!" Jack beamed. "I _knew_ today was gonna be great!"

For the first time since that morning, Hotch found himself smiling.

"Whoa! Thanks for the ice cream!"

"Anything for you, buddy."

* * *

><p>That night, Ashley's dreams were haunted by memories that were not hers. She used to have dreams like these when she was child, but they had not returned for many years. Tonight, though, she dreamed of being buried alive.<p>

The sound of the shovel hitting the dirt made her shudder and she tried to escape but it was no use. The soil suffocated her, and she knew without seeing that her father held the shovel. She didn't scream. She couldn't. She couldn't do anything. She could not escape. Her fate was sealed.

She awoke bathed in sweat and instantly thought of work. In less than a week, she would be gone.

So it was true, in a sense.

Her fate was sealed.

* * *

><p>Rossi remembered Ashley so vividly when she was a child that sometimes, he still saw her that way now. He would never tell her that. She would hate it. But he remembered.<p>

He remembered the way he carried her out of that godforsaken house. The way she sat in his lap at the station. How they ate Skittles together. How she organized the colors, and refused to eat the red ones at all.

The sound of her voice still echoed in his mind as she told him that she didn't know about any of the bad things her daddy did, but sat stiffly, her body betraying her.

So, Rossi had simply sat with her, giving her what she needed, and had clearly, never been given.

* * *

><p>"So, baby girl…" Derek hesitated. He didn't often call Garcia at home, but sometimes circumstances just called for it.<p>

"Yes, love?" she said. In the silence that fell while he tried to figure out how to word what he had to say, Garcia effortlessly fell into some Broadway show tune about rain and parades.

He waited several minutes for her to finish, a smile on his face now.

"What were you saying?" she asked.

"Do you miss her?" he said, not missing a beat.

"Every day," she answered, her voice soft and suddenly far away.

"Me, too," he said, sighing. "Okay. I gotta go to bed. Nice song," he complimented ending the call before she could reply.

* * *

><p>In the middle of the night, Elle rose to pace the house. She was in a horrible mood and the thunder and lightening suited her outlook. She stood close to the window, daring it to come closer. Strike her. Come on.<p>

She was in a dangerous mood.

Let it hit her. She would welcome it.

She scowled, knowing that because it was something she desperately wanted, it would not happen. It was just the way her luck worked. She never got anything she wanted.

A heaviness settled over her again. It was the same heaviness that she lived with for years now. It had never lifted. Never gave her any peace.

She wished for snow, because she knew it was absurd. It didn't snow in April. But it matched her insides.

She was cold. Distant. Frozen. Lost somewhere where people looked but would never find her.

* * *

><p>This new day brought Emily a sense of optimism. The very first thing she did is check her business site to study the mysterious comment again. She didn't allow anonymous remarks, but somehow, this thank you had skirted around that.<p>

She went back to her painting of constellations, biting her lip and trying to concentrate on the tiny lights that made up her world. The lights that somehow lit up her darkness, no matter how far away they seemed.

Emily bit her lip, and thought.

And just like that it came to her. She stared at the painting on the computer screen. At the woman in the café.

JJ.

The thank you was from JJ.

* * *

><p>Jason found himself in the sanctuary of a church. He didn't know how. He'd been raised with religion, sure, but it wasn't something that he had hung onto especially hard.<p>

But it was late now, and there wasn't anywhere else he needed to be. Plus, his character needed some redeeming, and so far, that was not happening. And as much as Jason liked writing the dark side of humanity, he needed light to exist, too, beside that darkness.

So, he knelt. He prayed. He thought of the cemetery he'd recently been, where Emily Prentiss was buried. It shocked him.

He lit a candle for her, and prayed her spirit was somewhere safe.

* * *

><p>As fast as she ran, she couldn't escape what she'd done. It was what JJ had taken to doing when she needed to blow off steam. A good run was cathartic and sometimes, she needed it.<p>

She couldn't believe she had been that stupid. What if her comment to Emily's gallery could be traced somehow, despite all of Garcia's reassurances that no trace remained of her computer.

Will hadn't been happy either, but what could she do?

JJ took a deep breath. She made herself concentrate on the night sky. The stars above her head. Somehow, they gave her peace. Somehow, she knew.

Emily was okay. And JJ would be, too.

And maybe, someday, they could all be back together again. As if they never left.

* * *

><p><em>The image in the mirror was wretched, but it reflected who she was now. <em>

Garcia read the line and smiled. It was so appropriate given the crazy circumstances she was dealing with these days.

This was why she loved theatre. This was why she did what she did. It was a release. Something that was only hers, but that her friends would come and support, no matter what they were doing.

Garcia closed her eyes and paced her apartment, trying to get into the character. A wrecked and destroyed person.

And as much as she tried, Garcia could not pull that feeling out from within herself. It just wouldn't come. Instead, she sat outside on her tiny balcony. She looked up and smiled, feeling sure and right and connected.

* * *

><p>This night was endless.<p>

As tired as Spencer was, he found he could not sleep. His mind was still working from his conversation with JJ. From the strange day and the strange year they had experienced thus far. He wished for something to give him peace of mind, but couldn't think of anything.

So, instead he closed his eyes. He prayed to something, somewhere, and found himself seeing something else, unbidden.

He had closed his eyes, and without prompting, thought of stars.


End file.
